


And They Dance

by soymilklatte



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Romance, Teninch, Teninch Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soymilklatte/pseuds/soymilklatte
Summary: There's a handsome man who keeps returning to her flower shop every night.





	And They Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aneclipsedhabitue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneclipsedhabitue/gifts).



> { this is all @aneclipsedhabitue's fault so send all complaints that way :) i never would have tried writing mercier but she talks about mercier/betty so much, i ended up doing this. also, betty works in a flower shop because that's part of the head cannon for modern!betty. }

Jean-Francois Mercier had been running late one evening and that was how they met. Betty had owned her small flower shop for about five years when he first came through her doors. It had been raining and the dampness of the air had only made his curls more pronounced, he was trying to tame them but was clearly losing the battle. He was handsome in an old-fashioned sort of way and she had instantly been attracted to him, which in and of itself, was unusual.

Betty didn't usually date. Well, she hadn't dated anyone in a long time. First, there had been Donald but there had been no spark, so she had ended it as she believed they both deserved more. Then she had made a horrible mistake with Craze, there had certainly been a spark there and that spark had quickly turned destructive. It was in the aftermath of that relationship that she had packed up and moved to London.

Tonight, though, her mystery man told her that he was on his way to a dinner party. He would be meeting his superior's wife for the first time and he needed a hostess gift. Betty had smiled and asked, “Did you have something particular in mind?”

“Honestly, no. I know nothing about the woman or any of her likes or dislikes. Perhaps something neutral and understated?”

“Leave it to me. I think I know exactly what to do.”

As Betty went to the back of the shop to create his arrangement the two chatted for a bit. Small talk, as they were strangers, but they did introduce themselves. They spoke of books they enjoyed, discovered they both shared a love for classic jazz, old black and white films, and places they would love to travel to. Jean-Francois, it turned out, had travelled to many countries due to his job but he said that he would like to visit them again as a tourist and not someone on business.

“You miss a great deal when you have to focus on business. You travel, yes, but you don't have time to enjoy the sites, the museums, soak up the culture.”

“Still, at least you've travelled. I've never been outside the UK. There are so many places I would love to get to see one day.”

“Perhaps you will, Betty.”

“Perhaps.”

She came out with a simple, yet beautiful arrangement in a colour pallet that really shouldn't clash with anything. “Will this do, do you think?”

“It looks perfect to me,” he said and she blushed. “Truly, your work is beautiful.”

He paid, they said their goodbyes, and he left. Honestly, Betty thought that would be the last she would ever see of Jean-Francois Mercier and she was a little wistful at that fact but she assumed that it was for the best.

The next evening, however, he was back and she couldn't help but smile. “Another dinner party, Jean-Francois?”

This time she was surprised to see him blush ever so sightly, “Ah, no,” he seemed almost, unsure of himself and that, somehow, made him even more attractive to her. “I think just a bouquet will do.”

“Anything in particular?”

He shrugged and shook his head, “What ever flowers you like best. Build a bouquet of your favourite flowers.”

As Betty disappeared into her work area, he followed, and the two picked up their conversation from the night before. It was over too soon again and before she knew it, Betty was saying goodbye for the second time. After she had gone, she sighed deeply. Leave it to her to fall for a man who clearly already had someone special in his life.

The next month passed in much the same way. Jean-Francois would come in before closing, she would make a simple arrangement, and they would talk about anything and everything whilst she worked. Betty thought he must be flirting with her and the thought warmed her; until she remembered all the flowers he bought and that they must be for someone. An incredibly lucky woman, Betty thought and Betty hoped, whoever she was, she knew how much Jean-Francois clearly loved her. She was frustrated with herself for falling in love with a man who was obviously quite taken but there it was all the same.

Truly, if she had had to describe the man of her dreams, it would be Jean-Francois, right down to his curly hair.

Still, Jean-Francois came to her shop, and still, they talked. They also grew closer, from strangers, to acquaintances, to friends and confidants. When he asked her why she said she didn't date she told him about Donald and Craze and that she was a romantic that romantic love clearly wasn't meant for. 

“It sounds pathetic, I know. But I want the sort of love that will last my whole life and I don't know if I will be lucky enough to find it but I am not willing to settle for anything less.”

In return, he told her about his failed marriage and failed relationships and how agreeing to take the London job was, in part, to maybe have a chance to start fresh.

“But what about the woman you're seeing now? The one you keep buying the flowers for?”

This time when he blushed, it was bright red, he cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “There is no woman, Betty. There isn't anyone. Not yet, at least.”

“I don't think I understand.”

“The flowers. I'm not buying the flowers for anyone in particular.”

She blinked as she tried to suss out the meaning of what he wasn't saying and trying not to get her hopes up about what he might be saying. Or what she hoped he might be saying.

Before she could respond, he stepped closer to her and took her hand, “Betty, would you like to have dinner with me?”

She said yes, of course she said yes. It was after that night that the two of them became inseparable. Every evening Jean-Francois would come to the flower shop and Betty would greet him with the same beaming smile she always did but now there was a softness in her eyes that she used to keep guarded. There was also the ' _hello, I missed you, I'm so happy you're here_ ' kiss. That was another change they both thoroughly enjoyed.

This particular evening though found Jean-Francois leaning against the counter watching as Betty finished closing up the flower shop for the night. He still came to her shop everyday but now it was with the intent of walking her home and spending the evening with the woman he who had stolen his heart.

Tonight though, whilst Betty finished counting the till, Jean-Francois fussed with the small radio on the counter until he found what he was looking for.

Betty looked up when ' _La Vie en Rose_ ' suddenly filled the comfortable silence. She cocked an eyebrow, “Dean Martin?”

He held out his hand, “Dance with me?”

She smiled, brightly, “Always.”

He kissed her softly as they began to move. “You know,” she said suddenly, “I've never asked but what ever happened to all of those flowers that you used to buy from me?”

He laughed softly and hugged her a little tighter, “I would bring them to the senior centre or to the hospital. I gave them to random patients. Thought it would brighten their day.”

Betty looked up at him then and with a soft smile said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

And the two lovers, wrapped in each others arms, swayed easily to the music, under the glow of the fairy lights that decorated the shop, surrounded by the heady floral scent that perfumed the air.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [soymilklattes](http://soymilklattes.tumblr.com)


End file.
